What a Wicked Game To Play
by InfamouslyInfatuated
Summary: My first House/Cuddy fic. No real storyline. Set during the beginning of Season 3. Just a little bit of fun. :


Title: What a Wicked Game to Play...  
Author: Nikayla  
Genre: Romance  
Pairing: House/Cuddy  
Set During: That little bit of time when House was "healed"...only the amount of time was longer...just for my benefit. :)  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: No, I don't own House or Cuddy; if I did...well if I told you I'd have to kill you. :P

A day is a day like a day is like no other. But today is exceptionally different…and _you_ have definitely changed. Or at least some of your wicked demeanor has faltered; melted and floated away because today you feel…a bit like someone else.

You spot her across the clinic as she eyes the pile of charts you've yet to complete. If it were any other day you'd run and hide in an empty exam room pretending to do your job; pretending to give a damn. But today isn't like any other and _she_ must be different too because instead of hiding you find yourself wanting something else…wanting her. And then nothing has really changed at all. You want her now but you've wanted her before and neither in the romantic sense; all in the "keep your heels on we won't be long" sense where closets and empty exam rooms prove perfect for darting in, having some fun and showing up at work with bruises and scratches you can't quite explain. You don't want to love her because love is for idiots, but today she looks _so_ desirable that you can't focus on anything else. And you're finding that everything about her is making you higher than usual; higher than you've felt in weeks and maybe _this_ drug can replace your addiction.

Somehow you've managed to stay on good terms with her this week. A little banter here and there but then that was always a bit like foreplay. All things considered she might just play along.

You slide up behind her, ever so slightly pressing your body into hers. She turns around to face you which only ends up making it easier for you; having her pinned up against the desk this. Quick. Think. Rope her in. A consult, yes. You're always good thinking on your toes. She rolls her eyes but decides to oblige and you swear you catch the smallest sign of a smile pulling at her lips. Though you'd never admit it you're a sucker for that smile…although among her other lovely assets it doesn't always measure up. But then again…

Exam Room One. Empty. Shit. "Where's the patient?" she ponders. You waggle your eyebrows at her before turning to lock the door behind you. She throws you another questioning look that almost turns to something much more girlish when your hands are suddenly at her waist lifting her onto the exam table. "Why Doctor Cuddy, I believe you are."

"House…" she denies you but when your hand drops onto her thigh she reluctantly gives in, however momentarily. Reflexes. You inch her skirt up, though further than needed. (Really, always a gentleman.) Right leg, then left. Eye test. "How many fingers am I holding up?" "Five". "Wrong. See, thumb, technically not a finger." "House, I don't have time for…" But you cut her off. "Breasts perkier than usual?" Cold metal of the stethoscope meets the warm, soft skin of her chest. Her heartbeat is slightly rapid. An experiment perhaps?

Your fingers run across the back of her hand and her pulse quickens. They brush over her knee and the pace continues to increase. Your hand skitters up her skirt and it gets more rapid yet. You move from her legs to her neck and trace her jaw line with your index fingers before dragging your thumb across her lips, while her heart is thunderously pumping in her chest. She tries to speak but it comes out more of a husky, lust-ridden whisper, "House, maybe we shouldn't be…" "Shhh. Can't hear". Your hand sneaks between her legs again; you're just screwing with her now and can't help the victorious grin that spreads across your arrogant features.

She jumps up and off the table to make a b-line for the door. "I don't know what you think you're doing", she starts, but you block the door before she can open it. "Who's outrunning who now?" You know _you've_ changed and you are certain she's changed too. Now prove it. Convince her.

You grab her arms and push her against the door, hitting her with a kiss so forceful you're sure the whole clinic is on to you now. She pulls away, resisting you. But the atmosphere is building and her resistance is fleeting. You kiss her again with even more force than before and your hand rips at the material of her skirt seeking the bare skin of her thigh again. She gasps at the roughness of your touch but shows she can be equally rough as she backs you up and onto the table before straddling you and ripping your shirt from your torso. Two buttons clink to the ground as you thrust her shirt open and she moves away for a moment to remove it completely. You take this opportunity to snake your hands around her back and roll so that you are on top of her (which proves quite difficult on a narrow exam table).

Your breath is hot on her neck; kissing a trail of fire across her throat. Her breathing is labored and when you hike up her skirt again and your hands dig into the flesh of her hips her breath hitches and she gasps your name. You're amazed at how delicious your name can sound when it's barely audible through her lips.

You shimmy out of your pants and your lips crash onto hers once more. You savor her taste in your mouth and memorize her scent; the aroma so intoxicating that you are sure this fix will never be enough. You begin a slow, deadly rhythm; every part of you that isn't touching her is aching and blood is pounding in your ears. You feel yourself crashing and there's no going back. The familiar signs of addiction are surfacing; counting the minutes until you can score another hit. 'I won't love her' you tell yourself. You're an addict and she is nothing more than your new drug of choice.

Breathing returns to normal and now you're wearing pants, but something hasn't changed. You still feel the pull; the lust that's whipping in the air between you. When she goes to leave you pull her to you again and kiss her so heatedly that you leave her off balance and (again, like the gentlemen you are) immediately push her out into the clinic with no time to compose herself. She shoots you a glare and tries to play it like she didn't get anything out of your little rendezvous. You toss her another one of your arrogant smiles, "Same time tomorrow then?"

12/22/07

Finished: 12:12 pm

Nikayla


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